Belial
by Bow to me Fools BOW I SAY
Summary: "Trust me, it all makes a lot more sense once your realize that angels are dicks."
1. Enter: The Demon

**A/N: Sup, nerds! Just wanna warn you of the amount of blood in this fic and other Bill/SPN-related horror. Okay, have fun! Don't slip in the blood!**

 **Cuz there's a lot of it.**

 **A lot.**

* * *

Dipper couldn't believe what he was seeing. She'd been beating it off. Mabel had had the upper hand; he had been sure of it. That was why it had flung him into a ditch, because it had needed to focus on fighting her. He'd even seen her land a solid punch on it just before he'd passed out.

But there she was, lying motionless on the ground. The yellow sweater she was wearing was torn up and covered in blood, and Dipper wasn't sure if the blood from the gash in her side or the blood that was still pouring from the gash in her head scared him more. Was she…? She couldn't be! She was Mabel! But, somehow, he knew. He knew she was… And it was his fault. And he couldn't live with that.

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, frozen, staring at his twin with wide, horror-filled eyes, but it felt like a small eternity before he reached a shaking hand towards her.

"M-Mabel?" he said, a crack in his voice and tears in his eyes.

"REAL SHAME, ISN'T IT?" Dipper started. He knew that voice. He still heard it in his nightmares. Greyscale seeped into the world as he spun around to face Bill Cipher, adopting a protective stance in front of Mabel even though he knew it would be useless to help her now. Absolutely useless. Just like he was: useless, obsessed, selfish. Mabel wouldn't have even been out here if it hadn't been for him and his stupid thirst for mystery!

"I ALWAYS LIKED HER," Bill continued to speak in that cheerful tone of his, snapping Dipper out of his thoughts," SHE HAD SPUNK! AND A HELL OF A LEFT HOOK!" Bill laughed and Dipper smashed his hands over his ears. He couldn't do this. He couldn't listen to Bill's laughter while Mabel was… was…

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face, "JUST SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT MABEL SO JUST. SHUT. UP!"

"YEESH, RELAX, PINE TREE," Bill said, "I'M HERE TO HELP YOU, AFTER ALL."

"No!" Dipper shouted, wiping his arm across his face, "No, you're not! You don't help people! You only ever help yourself!"

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN I CAN'T HELP YOU IN THE PROCESS," Bill said. He flew overhead, stopping to hover over Mabel's… over Mabel. Dipper didn't take his tear-filled eyes off of him for a second.

"I MEAN, WE _COULD_ ALWAYS JUST LEAVE HER CORPSE HERE FOR THE GNOMES. SOME OF THEM HAVE TAKEN A REAL LIKING TO ROTTING FLESH." Dipper shuddered, and that image was almost all it took for him to give in.

"OOOOR YOU COULD LET ME HELP YOU BRING HER BACK." And that was it. There was no doubt or argument in his mind. Though, had there ever really been one, in the first place? Thinking about it, he realized that if Bill hadn't come right away, Dipper probably would have ended up summoning him and looking even more desperate than Bill knew he was. Dejected, Dipper turned his gaze away from Bill and back onto Mabel, his shoulders slumping.

"What do you want in return?" he asked, but he knew, and Bill knew that he knew.

"COME ON, NOW, PINE TREE. LET'S NOT DRAG THE NEGOTIATIONS OUT FOR LONGER THAN WE HAVE TO." A blue flame engulfed one of Bill's hands and he stretched it out towards Dipper. Dipper's stomach clenched when he looked up at it. He rubbed his own arm nervously, the one that Bill had smashed in a drawer. It still hadn't completely healed yet and Dipper still had to ask someone else to get silverware for him from that drawer. He took another glance down at Mabel, reminding himself that he had no choice. Choking on one more sob, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned to glare at Bill, taking his hand and sealing the deal.

He already knew what it felt like to be ripped out of his own body, but it was even worse the second time. He screamed because it was the only possible reaction for him to have in the state he was being forced into. In reality, he felt like crying and shaking and curling up and vomiting. As he got his bearings, though, he noticed that something wasn't right. The monster was lying motionless on the ground where Mabel had been just moments ago, and Mabel was at Dipper's body's side, trying to wake him up. Only one arm of her sweater was missing and the only blood on her was from a small gash in her arm and an even smaller cut on her cheek.

Bill had tricked him.

" _No no_ no!" Dipper shouted, trying to get back into his body, but it was too late. Bipper had already woken up. He looked Dipper straight in the eye and started laughing hysterically, much to the confusion of Mabel.

"Dipper?" she asked, reaching a tentative hand towards his body's shoulder, "You okay, bro-bro?"

"FINE!" Bill said, turning to face Mabel, "EVERYONE'S FINE!" He flashed a glance at Dipper who was too full of shock and rage to say anything back. Mabel wasn't convinced, but she must have thought that Dipper had just hit his head too hard because she helped Bill to his feet.

"Let's just get you back to the Shack," she said.

"SOUNDS LIKE A REAL SWELL IDEA," Bill said. He was wobbly on Dipper's legs, at first, but Mabel helped him out.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked, "You hit that tree pretty hard."

"I'VE NEVER FELT BETTER, SISTER!" Bill said, slinging Dipper's arm across he shoulders. He left it there for support when he realized that he was still having some trouble getting his footing.

"Sure, Dip-Dop," she said with a roll of her eyes and continued on to talk about how the rest of the fight had gone. Dipper had caught up to them, by that time, having been frozen in place for the second time in the span of a few minutes.

 _"What are you up to, Bill?"_ he demanded. Bill only smiled at him, as if to say _'Wouldn't you like to know?'_

When they got back to the Mystery Shack, Mabel sat Bill down in a chair in the kitchen.

"I'm gonna go get the first aid kit. Stay," she said, mustering up her Serious Face. Bill gave her a too-wide grin and two thumbs up and she left with a swish of her hair. Dipper lowered himself to where Mabel had been standing, glaring at Bill with his arms folded. Bill ignored him and, as soon as Mabel was out of sight, he stood up and walked towards the gift shop, purposefully going through Dipper on his way. Dipper's form distorted itself to let Bill through, then shuddered back to normal. That hadn't been _anything_ like phasing through inanimate objects or even other people and Dipper made a mental note to never let it happen again.

He followed Bill into the gift shop and up to the vending machine. _The portal._ _Grunkle Ford!_

 _"Bill, stop this!"_ Dipper said. Bill continued to ignore him, punching the code into the machine. At least he actually walked down the steps this time instead of letting Dipper's body fall. Dipper pressed on, floating ahead a little to try and get Bill's attention again. What he saw made him fly forward as fast as he could to try and do something, _anything_ , to warn Grunkle Ford. Somehow, Bill's already too-wide grin had gotten wider, and the bloodlust in it didn't spell anything good for the next person who met his path.

He shouted his great uncle's name over and over. He waved his arms, flew through machinery, and even flew through the man himself. But for a slight shiver when Dipper flew through him, Ford didn't acknowledge his presence at all. He was far too focused on his machine. When Stan had fixed it, he'd fixed it well. Well enough that it was still somewhat active now, nearly a month after he'd brought Ford through it.

Dipper saw Bill approaching with a heavy-looking metal pipe. He flew through Ford a few more times, causing the man to shiver more violently and finally, _finally_ distracting him from his work.

"Dammit, what _is_ that?" Ford said, glaring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

 _"Turn around turn around turn around!"_ Dipper shouted, but Ford couldn't hear him and Bill managed to land a solid blow on the back of Ford's head. He chuckled as Ford went down, twirling the pipe the way he twirled his cane. He then tossed the object away and jumped onto Ford's unconscious body in order to get a better look at the controls. He pushed a few buttons and flicked a few switches here and there. The portal lit up, glowing as bright as it had on the night Dipper had discovered it. The first gravitational anomaly hit and Bill began to chuckle again, the sound growing more and more manic with each passing second. He pushed himself off the wall and floated into the portal room, closer and closer to the portal, itself.

 _"No! No!"_ Dipper shouted, trying in vain to get in his way, to stop him somehow. Bill just kept laughing.

"Dipper!" They both turned around to see Mabel holding onto the doorway, trying to keep herself from floating up any further. Stan was behind the controls trying to wake his brother up. Dipper wasn't sure if they had come downstairs when they had noticed that he was missing or when the anomaly had started, but it didn't matter. They shouldn't be here!

"YOU'RE TOO LATE, SHOOTING STAR!" Bill said. He laughed once more at the look of horror on her face, then disappeared into the portal. Dipper tried to follow, but found that he couldn't. It was as if the portal was a solid wall to him.

"No!" Mabel shouted. She pushed herself off of the doorframe to go after him.

"Mabel!" Stan shouted, abandoning his attempts to wake Ford in order to go after her. Ford woke up a moment later, though, and it took a moment more for him to get his bearings and notice his brother and niece hurtling towards the now-very-much-more-active portal. He gasped and, without thinking, propelled himself towards them.

Stan had grabbed Mabel—who was still reaching towards the portal—and a wire by then, but Ford was still coming towards them. He realized too late that what he was doing was stupid and useless and, unable to stop himself, ended up ramming into them. The wire snapped and the trio continued to hurtle forward, screaming and clinging to each other for the entire rest of the short distance into the portal.

As soon as they went through, it turned off.

Bodiless and invisible, Dipper floated in front of the large machine, frozen in shock for the third time that day.


	2. Enter: The Hunters

"HEY LADY, YOU GOT ANY HOLY MEN AROUND HERE? I NEED ONE."

"Uhm…what kind do you need?"

"OH ANYTHING ABRAHAMIC IS FINE."

* * *

As Dean took a sip of his morning coffee, he noticed a blip on the bunker's map and groaned. They had enough crazy bullshit to deal with already without whatever was going on in frikkin'—Dean leaned over the table and squinted—

"Maine?"

"You saw the map?" Sam said, walking into the room. Dean glanced over at him and turned back to the map.

"Yeah," he said, "Looks like its sendin' us into a Stephen King novel." Sam smirked and huffed out a chuckle.

"Well, we should probably head out anyway," Sam said.

"Oh, come on, man!" Dean moaned, "We're already up to our ears in crap, _here_. And I just got my coffee!"

"Dude, the last time that thing lit up, the angels were falling," Sam said. He had a point. Whatever was going on in Maine was big if the bunker's map was picking it up and Dean could already feel the burn of the Mark on his arm at the thought of something new to kill, but he had just woken up and he was cranky so he wasn't about to concede that easily.

"So it's probably just another angel. Let 'em rot," he said. Sam gave him a look.

"It's _at least_ a two day drive!" Dean said.

"We could always take a plane," Sam said. Dean's eyes widened for a second and his breath hitched at the suggestion, then he glared at Sam, downed the rest of his coffee, and trudged back into his room.

"I'll go pack my shit," he grumbled as he passed Sam and his stupid, self-satisfied look. Well, fine! He was just going to put on that tape Sam hated for the whole drive there. That ought 'a teach him!

* * *

The Rabbi waved goodbye to the woman he'd been speaking to in his office. She was in the process of converting to Judaism and had had some questions. He had been happy to help, and she had left with a new light in her eyes. That had to be one of his favorite parts of the job, helping to guide souls to that new understanding.

He noticed a young boy sitting in one of the chairs outside of his office, swinging legs that were too short to reach the floor.

"OH, HEY THERE! I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER COME OUT!" There was something inherently… _disturbing_ about this boy, whether it was the smile that was just a bit too wide or the voice that was just a bit too loud, but the Rabbi greeted him with a kind smile, anyway. He wasn't the kind of person who judged others. He figured that was the Lord's job.

"What can I do for you, young man?" he asked.

"I SEEM TO FIND MYSELF IN NEED OF A BLESSING," the boy said. He hopped off of the chair and, from under it, lugged out two milk gallons filled with what looked like oil. The Rabbi raised an eyebrow.

"That's….uh…a bit unconventional," he said. In fact, no one had ever come to him with a request like this before.

"YEAH YOU DON'T MIND, DO YOU? THE SITUATION'S TIME-SENSITIVE."

"Young man," the Rabbi said, kneeling down to the boy's level and placing a hand on his shoulder, "You don't need me to bless anointing oil for you." Because that was what he was assuming it was. What else could it be?

"OH, BUT THIS IS _SPECIAL_ ," the boy said, a hint of mischief in his tone. He dug a crumpled piece of paper out of his vest and handed it to the Rabbi. On it was written a blessing unlike any he'd ever seen. The handwriting was difficult enough to decipher, but the words, themselves, were worse. He couldn't even translate a majority of them and would have considered it gibberish if he hadn't recognized a few of the words as Enochian. He looked up to ask the boy where he had found something like this, but the boy was already lugging the jugs into his office and grumbling something about noddle arms. The Rabbi followed him in, looking down at the sheet again.

"Do you know what this means?" he asked, genuinely curious. The scholarly debate about Enochian had been going on for centuries, and here was a chance to participate in some dialogue about it.

"I KNOW LOTS OF THINGS," the boy said, "YOU DO THIS BLESSING FOR ME AND I MIGHT JUST TELL YOU A FEW." For some reason, the Rabbi didn't say what he usually would: that knowledge isn't conditional, that mutual learning is better than buying and selling. It was something in the boy's eyes, something that said whatever knowledge he had _was_ conditional, that it could only be bought. That same something caused a sinking feeling in the Rabbi's stomach, like he was getting in too deep with a creature that should not be crossed. He had the sudden urge to physically remove the boy from his office, lock the door behind him, and start praying.

He forced his gaze away from the boy's to look at the sheet again. He was just being silly, of course. This was only a child, and one who was requesting his help. What would make him even think something like that? He took a deep breath and began the blessing.

* * *

"So, get this…" Dean turned his head with an annoyed grunt to get a better look at Sam. He was too damn beat to care all that much about whatever Sam had dug up about where they were headed. He'd just been driving for nearly fourteen hours straight, stubbornly refusing to hand the wheel over to his brother, and had flopped face-first into his bed the second they'd entered the motel room. But Sam, damn him, was still awake and on his laptop.

"There was a murder not far from the coordinates of the blip," Sam said.

"Stephen King novel. I told you already, man," Dean mumbled half into his pillow.

"A Rabbi," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's attitude, "The police report puts the time of death about three hours after the blip first showed up."

"You think our little red dot ganked the preacher," Dean stated, rolling over onto his side.

"From the looks of it, dude, this thing is pretty brutal," Sam said, his mouse clicking. He was probably looking through pictures of the crime scene.

"Great. Tell me all about it in the morning," Dean said. He was out before Sam could respond.

* * *

He'd been sorry to see the Rabbi go, but he'd had no choice.

He nearly burst out laughing at that thought. Just who was he trying to fool? He'd been itching to sink a blade into the guy since the moment he'd met him. His enjoyment aside, though, he still hadn't had much of an option. These sorts of spells were a lot more potent with the blood of a martyr mixed in.

Besides, he'd given the man a little something in return, told him one of the many things that he knew.

The exact time of his death:

… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.


	3. Enter: The Family

When the Winchesters got to the crime scene, the body was gone but the blood was still there. The blood was _everywhere_ : covering the walls, the desk, the chairs, the floor, and not just in basic splatter patterns. There were little handprints and footprints all over, small enough to be a child's. There was even a spot on the floor where the killer had made some kind of snow angel in the blood.

"Blood angel," Dean said, "Ain't that somethin'?" Whoever or whatever had done this had enjoyed it. Immensely. This wasn't their average, run-of-the-mill monster kill. Dean hadn't even seen a demon enjoy a kill this much.

"Hey, check this out," Sam said. Dean turned and followed his brother's gaze up to the ceiling molding. Just below it, hidden in a corner, was a carving of a triangle with an eye.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Dean said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Sam, who was giving him a look that said 'This could be something.'

" _Seriously_?" Dean said, in disgust and disbelief that his brother would think anything of a symbol like that.

"It's all we've got to go on," Sam said.

"All we've…? It's the freakin' _Illuminati triangle_ , dude! The blood angel means more than that!" Dean said, making an annoyed gesture at the offending symbol, "Some asshole probably put it up there way before all this crap."

"There's blood in it," Sam said.

"There's blood in my shoes!" Dean said, "You wanna examine my toes for evidence?" Their bitching was interrupted by Sam's phone beeping. His brows furrowed when he checked it.

"There's been another blip," Sam said, "Same location." He showed Dean the phone.

"How the hell did you get it to do that?" Dean asked, taking it and raising an eyebrow at the blip and the coordinates on the screen.

"Charlie helped me set it up a while ago," Sam said, taking the phone back, "Let's check it out."

"Yeah."

As Dean walked out the door, Sam snapped a picture of the little triangle in the corner.

* * *

Mabel continued to scream as she and her grunkles tumbled to the ground beyond the portal, her eyes squeezed shut. She was so focused on her loud exhale that she didn't notice anything else going on around her until Stan unwrapped his arms from around her to put his hands on her shoulders.

"Mabel! It's okay, sweetie, it's over!" he said. She stopped screaming and opened her eyes to look around. They were in a wooded area and the sun was beginning to set. She was sitting on a patch of grass while Stan kneeled in front of her and Ford stood off to the side, an inquisitive glare focused on the space Mabel assumed the portal must have been. It was gone now, which meant that it was, in fact, over.

"Well, that was pretty crazy," she said, managing a shaky smile. It was all she could do to not burst into tears. Going through that portal had felt like drowning and being electrocuted at the same time. The chuckle from Stan helped a little.

"Crazy?" Ford said. Mabel and Stan looked over to see that he had turned his glare onto them, incredulous and angry now rather than inquisitive.

" _Crazy_? That was suicidal!" He threw his hands into the air. "What were you two even _thinking_? Or were you thinking at all?"

"What were _we_ thinking?" Stan said, standing up and glaring at Ford in return, "What were _you_ thinking?" He pointed an accusing finger at his brother. "Everything would have been fine if you hadn't pulled that little stunt!" As the Stan twins began to argue in earnest, Mabel realized that there was something they had all failed to notice: Dipper. He was nowhere to be seen. He was being controlled by Bill and he was nowhere to be seen.

This was her fault. She should have noticed back in the woods. She knew that he'd been acting strangely but she had just chalked it up to him hitting the tree. She'd brought Bill into the shack, had left Bill alone long enough for him to knock out Ford and turn on the portal, and now Dipper was gone. She didn't even know if his spirit was hovering around them or following Bill or if something worse had happened to it while they were in the portal.

Stan and Ford fighting wasn't helping matters.

"Stop it!" she shouted, her voice breaking and tears in her eyes. The Stan twins turned to her in surprise.

"You two are always so busy with your stupid fight! Do you even care what happened to Dipper? Did you even notice?" She went to wipe her tears away on the sleeve of her sweater but her face hit the skin of her arm, instead. Oh, yeah. The creature had ripped that sleeve off in the fight. It felt like ages ago. She let out a frustrated noise somewhere between a groan and a scream and balled her fists at her sides.

"I'm going to go find my brother. If you two dummies wanna keep fighting then go ahead! I don't care!" She turned and stormed away from them. She didn't know where she was going or where she should even start to look, but she couldn't just stand there listening to them bickering about nothing while Dipper was in trouble.

"Mabel." That was Stan's hand on her shoulder. She almost shoved it off and started running.

"I'm sorry," he said, "You're right. Whatever's going on with Dipper is more important than…this." He turned her around to face him. "We're gonna find him. Okay, kid? And then we're gonna smack some sense into him." Mabel nodded, not trusting herself to speak without bursting into tears. She really didn't want to cry, but Stan was smiling that rare, soft smile of his and rubbing her arm and Dipper was _gone_ and the portal had _hurt_ and she just couldn't hold it in any longer. She buried her head in Stan's shoulder, sobbing, and Stan switched to rubbing her back. She heard Ford clear his throat awkwardly.

"We, uh, we should set up a base of operations," he said. He didn't sound angry anymore. In fact, he sounded a little embarrassed. Had he known that Dipper—or, rather, Dipper's body—had come through? Probably not. He'd been unconscious when they'd found him.

"If he came through before us, he's probably been here for a while," Ford continued, "Time works differently when you cross through dimensions."

They waited a few more minutes for Mabel to calm down, then started walking. As it turned out, the woods were right on the edge of a small town. Stan suggested that they look for some kind of motel to set up their base in. Luckily, the money that Stan had on him was similar enough to the money used in this dimension that they were able to rent a room. He left soon after, saying there were some things he needed to get, leaving Mabel and Ford to settle in.

"Explain to me what happened while I was unconscious," Ford said, sitting on a bed. They hadn't spoken much on the walk to the motel. Emotions had still been running high and Stan and Ford hadn't wanted to risk another argument starting.

"Bill Cipher possessed Dipper and opened the portal," Mable said. Ford's eyes widened.

" _Bill Cipher_?" he said, "The _dream demon_?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Didn't he read my warnings? Doesn't he know how dangerous Cipher is?"

"Of course he does!" Mabel said, "But you know Bill. He's tricky."

"Do you know how he got Dipper to make a deal with him?" Ford asked. Mabel ducked her head.

"I didn't notice he was Bill until he was almost through the portal," she mumbled. Ford sighed.

"It's not your fault, Mabel," he said, "Like you said; Bill is tricky. It won't be easy finding him, though. Especially since he's got a head start. And getting him out of Dipper's body…"

"But we're going to find him!" Mabel said with determination, "We have to! Before he hurts Dipper." She remembered the aftermath of the first time. He'd been pretty banged up, and the doctor had said that he was lucky his arm hadn't been broken.

"Or someone else," Ford said. In the moment of silence that passed between them, Stan walked through the door carrying a paper bag in one arm.

"Yeesh, what is this? A funeral?" he said.

"Hey, Grunkle Stan," Mabel said, a small smile on her face. Today had been completely draining, both emotionally and physically. She didn't have it in her for a big smile and bubbly greeting. Maybe with some rest and Mabel Juice™ she'd feel better.

"Hey, sweetie. Got you something," he said. He reached into the bag and brought out a yellow ball of yarn and a pair of knitting needles.

"I figured, you know, you don't wanna be walkin' around with one sleeve or whatever," he said. She tackled him with a hug.

"Thank you so much!" she said. The yarn wasn't quite the right color and the needles weren't exactly the size she was used to, but it didn't matter. It was something familiar, something that made her happy. She needed that right now.

She spent the night knitting the sleeve until she fell asleep.

* * *

"I'm embarrassed to be in public with you." Dean had just come out of the diner's restroom and walked back to their table, catching the image of a triangle with an eye on Sam's laptop as he passed.

"Well, why don't you explain to me what else we have to go on and I'll start researching that," Sam said, not looking up from his screen. Dean just glared, because he knew they had nothing. They'd gone to the coordinates of the blips last night and had found nothing, he'd checked in with the police station about fingerprints only to learn that they had found noting, and he and Sam were going to the coroner later today, but Dean had already read the report and he had a feeling that they were going to find exactly nothing.

"At least my hope isn't hinging on internet conspiracy theorists," Dean muttered into his glass as he took a sip of water. Sam didn't respond, so Dean took to scanning the crowd inside the diner. Maybe he could find someone acting suspicious. He knew how desperate that sounded, but he figured it was less desperate than Illuminati bullshit.

He saw a family of three walk in: two older men and a little girl. She was sitting on the shoulders of one of the men, all smiles wrapped in a yellow sweater. Adorable, but not suspicious. A few tables across from him, a woman was reprimanding a teenage boy who was glaring anywhere but at her. On the other side of the diner, a young woman sat alone, looking nervously at her watch. Okay. That could be something…wait. Wait, another woman had just walked up and kissed her. She must have been waiting for her. Nothing unusual.

Oh. That first family had sat down across the way, just in Dean's line of sight. The little girl was munching on sugar straight from the packets. A little weird, yeah, but there was really no accounting for the shit kids did. Hang on, hadn't there been three of them? Where was the other guy?

Sam's laptop slammed shut.

"Hey!" Sam said. Dean turned to see the guy he'd been looking for glaring at his brother.

"What were you looking at that for? Who are you?" the man said, grabbing Sam's tie and getting in his face. Great. A conspiracy nut.

"Sir, you are interrupting a _very_ serious federal investigation," Dean said, putting as much sarcasm as he could into the words. Sam sent him bitch face #5: Fuck you, Dean.

"Federal investigation?" The other old man had joined them. He and the first one looked very similar. They were probably brothers. In fact, they might be twins. The second man let out a sharp laugh.

"As if! I know a fed when I see one and you two ain't feds," he said. Dean had to admit, he hadn't heard that one before. He and Sam gave each other a look and pulled out their fake IDs. The second man took Dean's while the first watched with a raised eyebrow.

"Fake," the second man said after a moment. He folded it closed and handed it back to Dean.

"Don't try to con a con man, kid." This wasn't good. He and Sam still had nothing on this case. They couldn't get run out of town now. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the little voice in the back of Dean's head—the one he knew was the Mark—telling him to just kill them both wasn't helping matters.

"Whoa, what's going on over here?" It was the little girl. She was still all smiles and, now that she was closer, Dean could see that one of sleeves of her sweater was a slightly different color than the rest of it. That wasn't as noticeable as the picture of a cartoon bee on it with the phrase "BEE URSELF" stitched around it.

"These two were just about to tell us where they found that symbol and why they were looking into it," the first man said. It was directed more at Sam than the girl.

"Symbol?" she said, but it was overpowered by Sam's "Why would tell you that?"

"That depends," the second man said with a smirk, "Do the cops know about this little scam you're pullin'?" Dean narrowed his eyes. This guy knew how to play the game, he'd give him that. Dean almost respected him. Sam sighed and scribbled the address of the crime scene down on a business card.

"We're looking into a murder, okay?" he said, handing the business card to the first man.

"Murder?" the second said, "The heck are you doin' that for?"

"None of your beeswax," Dean said. Sue him, he had that sweater on his mind, and it was kind of worth it when the little girl giggle-snorted.

"I like him. He says 'beeswax'," she said. Dean couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Damn if this kid wasn't a freakin' ray gun of happiness.

"What I mean to say," Sam said, "is that you could be putting yourselves into danger. Just… call us if you need help, okay? The number's on the card." The first man turned the card around and glared at the number.

"I know what I'm doing, son," he said, stuffing it into his pocket, "I'm not sure you do, though. If you were smart, you'd delete those pictures and forget about this." He turned around and stalked out of the diner. The other two didn't follow.

"What's he doing? We haven't eaten yet," the second man said.

"He's making a dramatic exit, Grunkle Stan. Just go with it," the girl said. She winked at Sam and Dean, turned on her heel, and strutted out while the man looked on in confusion.

"Kids," he said with a shrug and followed the two out.

As soon as they were gone, Dean said, "What do you think 'grunkle' means?"

"Really? That's what you're focusing on?" Sam said. Dean shrugged.

* * *

They had decided to 'head them off at the pass.' Sam had been right; it had all been too strange to be a coincidence. The small family had shown up after the second blip to confront them about something Sam and Dean had found in relation to the first blip.

They'd called Cas about their new discovery. He had already been on his way to Maine and was going to take a look at the coordinates of the blip, but Sam and Dean had figured that it would be better if they all met up.

Now the three were sitting in the impala at the address Sam had written on the card, waiting for the family of three to show up.

"I don't like this," Cas said, fidgeting in the back seat, "There's something… _wrong_ here. I just…I can't figure out what it is."

"Hey, you okay, man?" Dean asked. Cas never fidgeted and it couldn't mean anything good. Before Cas was able to answer, though, Sam nudged Dean.

"They're here," he said. The trio got out of the car and walked over to them. The little girl noticed them first.

"Hey, it's the beeswax guy," she said and, again, Dean couldn't help but crack a smile. There was something about being known as 'the beeswax guy' by a sweet little girl. The moment didn't last long, though, as one of the men (the one who was not 'Grunkle Stan') squared up on them.

"Does _anyone_ ever _listen_ to me?" he said, "You have no _idea_ what you're playing with here!" Dean almost laughed at that. He and Sam had stopped more than one apocalypse and he'd already lost track of how many times he'd died.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Cas said, and it wasn't just snark. If the way Cas was looking at them wasn't enough—as if he was trying to figure out what their existence meant—then the way they all paused for a moment after he'd said it meant that there was something more to that question. These people definitely had something to do with the blip.

"Look," Sam said, his conflict resolution face on, "we might not know what exactly this thing is, but we deal with crap like it all the time." Dean noticed that, for some reason, the little girl's eyes seemed to light up at that. "We can help each other."

"At least tell us what we're dealing with here," Dean said.

"Oh, that's an easy one." Everyone turned at the new voice. Dean's jaw dropped, because it couldn't be. Really, it couldn't, and he didn't want it to be either.

Leaning against a light post as casual as you like with a sucker in his mouth, stood Gabriel.

"My brother," he said.

* * *

 **A/N: MABEL AND DEAN ARE GONNA BE BEST FRIENDS YOU GUISE I CAN FEEL IT.**


End file.
